


Blurry

by watchcatewrite



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: (I'll tag more as we progress), (this will eventually get to the sexy stuff so I'm just marking it as such now), Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Anxiety, Blurryface Era, Dermatophagia, F/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchcatewrite/pseuds/watchcatewrite
Summary: Some unspoken thing.
Relationships: Josh Dun/Original Male Character(s), Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	Blurry

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this idea for a while. Maybe if I just start the damn thing, it'll actually get written. Imagine that.

Jos wakes before the sun. 

She doesn’t bother checking the clock, her body keeps its own time now, across state lines and over country borders. Jos remembers one of her high school teachers telling her that time wasn’t linear, that humans had no real concept of time, only what they could understand. She’d thought him pompous at the time, some blowhard who fancied himself a college professor but had never made it. Now she wasn’t so sure. 

Time felt different on tour, like it morphed to suit her mood or the whims of the weather. Sunny days felt endless, the night wrapped around her like a blanket, muffling sound, and every day she woke up to find she had transported. Always somewhere new, never where her head had hit the pillow the night before. Jos wondered if it was a kind of magic only someone like her got to experience. 

Tyler’s bunk is empty; Jos finds him in the front of the bus where she left him the night before. His keyboard rests on his lap, headphones over his ears, and his head lolls on his chest. She slides a hand across his shoulders as she passes by, reaching for the cabinets. He startles momentarily before collecting himself, lifting his head with a yawn and sliding the headphones off his ears. 

“What time is it?”

“No idea.” Jos slides into the table across from him, her hand reaching into a box of cereal. 

“Where are we?” Tyler blinks, looking around the bus. 

“No idea.”

“Fat lot of help you are.” He scowls at her, sleep still in the corners of his eyes. 

She smiles brightly, withdrawing her hand from the box and shoving a handful of dry cereal into her mouth before holding it out to him. “Cereal?”

“Not gonna use a bowl?” Jos shakes her head. He regards her for a moment, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth, before he shrugs and sticks his own hand into the box. 

“Anything good?” Jos tips her head at the keyboard as she chews slowly. 

Tyler follows her gaze, shaking his head. When he answers his words mix with the half-eaten cereal. “I’m quitting music. I give up.”

“Guess I’m out of a job.” Jos sticks her hand back in the box, pulling out another handful of cereal and stuffing it in her mouth around her smile. 

“Sorry to be the one to tell you.” Tyler reaches for the box and Jos shrugs as she tips it toward him. 

They’re quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the crunch of cereal as they both take turns pulling handfuls from the box. Jos rises to grab a Red Bull from the fridge, handing one to Tyler without a word. They tap their cans together before both bringing them down on the tabletop softly, only then raising them to their lips. It’s a silly superstition, but it’s theirs. 

“What city are we going to?” Tyler glances at her over his Red Bull. 

“Boston. I think.” Jos offers him the box again but Tyler shakes his head. She closes it, placing it on the table. 

“Almost home then.”

Jos hums an agreement, turning to look out the window. The sky is still dark, light just barely starting to peek over the horizon. It hasn’t even been long since they left Columbus; they still have so far to go. It’ll be nice to sleep in her own bed, make breakfast in her own kitchen, walk around her own home. Still, she’ll be happy to get back on the road less than 24 hours later. 

“Haven’t even had time to miss it yet.” Jos smiles at him before taking another sip of her drink. 

He laughs. “Yeah, I guess not. Still.”

“Still.” She echoes. 

They watch the scenery pass by in silence. The sun slowly lifts above the horizon and they watch the sky as it’s painted yellow, orange, and finally blue. Jos doesn’t say anything but she thinks that this feels like home too. On the road, the two of them chasing their dreams, waking up in a new place every day. It’s different than it used to be, smoother, but at the heart of it all it’s still the same. 

Tyler’s her true home. 

\- - -

Tyler watches her apply her makeup. She’s not as methodical about it as she probably should be, but Jos kind of likes it that way. Each show is different, even if the setlist is the same. Why shouldn’t this be one more way in which every show is unique? Sometimes it’s heavier, so deep it looks like blood smeared around her eyes. Other times it’s paler, like if you didn’t know Jos and crossed paths with her on the street you might think it was just what she looked like. Tyler likes that idea in particular.

Her brush is permanently stained red now. Jos tried washing it every couple shows but after a while it stopped running clean. She thinks there’s probably some metaphor attached to that, about how you’re never really free from your demons. Tyler’s better at those sort of things than her, but the significance doesn’t escape her. 

A bit of eye shadow always ends up on her hands, underneath her fingernails, on the sleeves of her shirt. Jos swipes at it absentmindedly. This time it doesn’t brush off, smearing across the white fabric instead. Jos doesn’t understand it, bringing it to her eye so she can inspect it closer. It’s the wrong color to be her eye shadow, though it looked like it from a distance. In fact, it mostly looks like--

“Shit.” Jos brings her hand to her mouth, sucking at her thumb harshly before wrapping her other fingers over it to hold it tightly.

“What?” Tyler looks up from the couch. He’s been sitting there for a good fifteen minutes “preparing.” Jos thinks he just likes the quiet.

“Nothing.” Her tone is calm and even, but still Tyler pushes away from the couch.

“What is it?” Tyler glances down at her hand clenched tightly in a fist, reaches for it until he can wrap long fingers around her wrist.

Jos uncurls her fingers slowly, revealing the bleeding digit. “I must have caught it on something. It’s fine, Ty.”

Her finger is a tattered mess, cuticle and nail bed bitten to shreds. Jos had been a nail biter up until age seven, when her parents had convinced her to stop over the promise of a pet. She’d expected something more along the lines of a cat or dog, but she’d loved her hamster, Cheese, all the same. Jos hadn’t truly bitten her nails since then, but she’d simply exchanged it for a different nervous habit. One that left her just as self-conscious.

Tyler holds her hand in his softly, turning it over so he can see the finger from all sides. It oozes blood lazily, just enough to be annoying, but not enough to be concerning. He pulls the sleeve of his suit down over his palm, wrapping it over Jos’ finger. It’s not the first time the red suit had come in handy. Somewhere in it’s threads was more of Jos’ blood, wiped from under her nose when she’d clocked herself with a stick. Tyler had held it there for a few minutes, standing close enough for Jos to see the bit of gold in his eyes.

“It’s fine, Ty, seriously. It’ll stop in a second.” She looks down at the finger guilty, caught in a bad habit she knows she should have grown out of.

“Is it the show? Do you wanna hold off?” His voice is quiet, calming. Jos tries to focus on it.

“No. The show’s fine I’m just—” Jos takes a deep breath, letting it out over a count of three. She’s getting better at that. “This is all just getting so big.”

Tyler’s still looking down at her hand, a small smile on his face. “Remember that first show in Chicago? Like five people showed up.”

“And one left three songs in.” Jos’ own smile pushes across her cheeks, and Tyler chuckles.

“You were so nervous, even for those five people, and now look at you. You’ve got this, Jos. I know you do.” He looks up, his eyes meeting hers, and Jos feels that familiar warmth in the pit of her stomach.

“Thanks, Ty.” Her whispered words hang between their heads, Tyler’s warm hand still wrapped around hers.

After a few more seconds he lets go, and Jos’ finger emerges from the red fabric. It’s stopped bleeding, her skin looks puckered where they’ve applied pressure, but slowly plums up again. Jos tries not to get lost in the broken skin, tries not to let her mind wander back to the thoughts that tore it up in the first place. She takes another deep breath, letting it out over a count of three. Tyler’s watching her, she can feel it, but she doesn’t lift her head until she’s sure the smile on her face will stick.

“I gotta—” She motions back to the mirror and her abandoned makeup. Tyler nods hastily.

“Yeah, for sure.” He gives her one last smile, before returning to the couch. Jos watches him sink into it in the mirror, watches his shoulders tense again. She knows she’s not the only one who’s nervous, she’s just the worst at hiding it.

Her finger throbs slightly as blood slowly makes its way back to the ischemic tissue. It’s like a heartbeat, a drumbeat, keeping time with her frantic thoughts. She focuses on the brush, loading it up with color, swiping it over her eye carefully. The color’s lighter tonight, and Jos looks sickly, her dark eyes bright against the bruised skin. She looks down at her tattered fingers, flecks of blood still pressed into her skin and shivers. This tour will make a monster of her yet.

\- - -

Jos feels like a particularly strong breeze might blow her over, and she worries that everyone can see it. The whole week has been leading up to this—promos and rehearsals—but she still somehow feels unprepared. Even she’s not sure why; they’ve been performing these songs for months, she does live shows almost every day, but still. Still this feels so monumentally different. And Jos can’t seem to take a deep breath. 

Walking around the studio is surreal: seeing sets she’s grown up watching, costumes she’s laughed at and people she’s admired just makes them feel all the more untouchable, rather than humanizing them in her mind. She can’t help feeling she doesn’t belong here, that this is too big, too important, for her to be there. Even Tyler’s less talkative, more serious as the week winds down, as they get closer and closer. It might be the first Saturday Jos has ever dreaded. 

Tyler catches her in the dressing room. Maybe he can smell her fear, or see the green tinge throughout her face. Or maybe he just knows her better than anyone. He doesn’t say anything at first, just wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. She told him once that this helps, that the pressure against her body helps her feel grounded. But Jos gets the feeling this hug is as much for him as it is for her. The both stand quietly for a few minutes, wrapped around each other, until Tyler finally whispers against her hair. 

“We can do this. _You_ can do this, Jos. Let’s just go out there and try to have fun.”

Jos can’t help grinning, burying her face into the crook of his neck. Tyler’s already covered in paint and he smells slightly plastic, like one of those makeup sponges. But underneath it’s still him, slightly musky, a little sharp, like standing in the middle of the forest back home. She closes her eyes and tries to imagine being home, being safe. Her exhale probably tickles against his skin but Tyler doesn’t say anything, squeezing tighter for just a moment before he lets go. 

When they separate Jos meets his eyes, and they’re bright. Excited. She smiles widely at him, caught up in his energy. They can do this. They’re ready. They’ve been waiting for this. Walking out on the stage feels like every other time, that feeling of anticipation and anxiety. That she could crash and burn, or take off and fly. From the first note she knows exactly which way things will go. 

They stand on stage at the end, surrounded by the cast, but it’s the most exposed Jos has felt all night. It’s easier when they’re “twenty one pilots,” when they’re doing what they were meant to do. It’s harder when she has to be Jos. On live TV. In millions of households across the country. Tyler’s hand slips down to give hers a small squeeze, below the view of the cameras, and Jos takes a deep breath. The hard part’s over, now comes the fun. 

Lin picks the restaurant, as host, and they all trail in like ducklings. Jos feels dead on her feet, but as soon as they all sit down and start talking the tiredness slips away. The restaurant is lit warmly, filled with their conversations, and Jos enjoys the white noise of it all. Jordan talks a mile a minute to everyone around them, and Jos keeps elbowing him to slow down, to take it easy. His excitement is infectious though, much like Tyler’s, and Jos feels herself grinning wider and wider. 

Jordan leans until his lips are closer to her ear. “Hey, I have a surprise for you.” 

Jos turns to look at him, quizzically, and Jordan motions with his chin over her shoulder. When she turns Alex is standing in the doorway of the restaurant, his eyes sweeping over the room, looking for them. Jos raises an arm on instinct, still thunderstruck, and he smiles as he weaves through the tables. When he reaches them he leans down, cradling her face between his hands as he kisses her gently. Jos stands almost immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

He laughs against her lips, pulling back from the kiss to bury his face in the curls at her neck, whispering against her hair. “Surprise. Congrats, baby.”

Jos clutches him to her like he’s a lifeline, like he’s keeping her afloat in rough seas. He smells like her laundry detergent, like home, and Jos wants to wrap him around her like a blanket. FaceTime and phone calls are nothing compared to the real thing, and she’d almost forgotten. Jordan stands to clap him on the back, giving him a quick hello over Jos’ shoulder. She hardly notices, her face buried against Alex’s t-shirt, and doesn’t see Tyler’s face tighten momentarily before he joins Jordan in saying hello. 

Jos finally releases him, leaning back to look at him fully. “What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna meet me when we got back into town.”

Alex tips his head over at Jordan, who smiles widely. “Jordy told me you were freaking out, said I should come see you.”

“You saw the show? You didn’t say anything.” Jos smacks him on his chest gently, not noticing the way Tyler flinches imperceptibly.

“I didn’t wanna throw you off. I know you and Tyler like to keep to yourselves before a show.”

Jos glances over at Tyler, who seems to find something in the distance behind her fascinating. “Yeah, probably a safe bet.”

Tyler moves over so Alex can join them at the table and Jos tries not to feel weird about it. She could have pushed Jordan down, he wouldn’t have cared (he loves talking Alex’s ear off as much as he loves talking off Jos’), but when Alex went for the space on her left she didn’t think to protest. Would it have been stranger to say something? _No, Tyler sits on my left. Always._ Jos feels unbalanced without him at her elbow, but Tyler’s already talking to one of the cast members, and maybe she’s just being weird. 

She glances up at Alex as he takes a bite of her pasta, introducing himself to the cast member seated across from them. He’s smiling, and Jos can feel that warmth in the middle of her chest that feels distinctly _Alex_. She’d missed him the last few weeks, probably more than she’d let herself realize. It was easier when she focused on the shows, or her own nerves, when she could make time feel like one, long, tour-shaped mass. She knew her place on tour, with Tyler. 

Bringing Alex into the mix changed things, made her feel different, like the edges of her puzzle piece didn’t fit together with Tyler’s quite as perfectly as before. And Jos didn’t know why. 


End file.
